Inner Demons
by Blackswan15
Summary: Sam's thoughts as he drives away after Dean tells him to pick a hemisphere in season 5. Possible trigger for brief suicidal thoughts. Small ray of hope ending.


A.N. Takes place in season 5 after Dean tells Sam they should pick a hemisphere. This is implied one-sided Wincest. Brother in love with brother. Don't like, don't read.

Trigger warning. Brief mentions of suicidal thoughts.

It hurt. Correction, it felt like his heart was being ripped from his chest a little more with every mile he traveled away from Dean.

The black asphalt was a low hum under the tires of his "borrowed" car as the dark trees flashed by in the glow of his headlights. It was the early hours of the morning when all sane people were asleep in their beds. The flare of oncoming headlights was very rare. Had Dean realized he was gone yet? He'd said goodbye, but Dean had brushed it off, refusing to talk, not wanting to have anything to do with him, still angry with him over Ruby, over him opening the cage.

Sam understood though. What he'd done was unforgivable. He'd doomed the world, and more importantly, he'd doomed the one person in this world that he truly loved. There was no coming back from that. No good dead great enough to erase his sin. He'd lost himself when Dean had been dragged to hell, and he'd never truly managed to find himself again. Only able to put on a mask, a facade, trying desperately to imitate how he'd been before. Unfortunately, that had only made things worse. Piled sin upon sin, argument on argument, slowly loosing any trust his brother had left in him. Maybe if he could have found a way to really talk to Dean when he got back from hell, somehow managed to skirt that "no chick flick moments" barrier and have a true conversation with him, things could have been different. Maybe not, but he was haunted by the "What ifs".

His mind drifted, unfocused from the monotony of painted lines and the dark, unmemorable night landscape. His brother meant the world to him. No... Dean was his world. He'd longed for him for years. Listened to his quiet breathing as he lay in the adjacent bed in their many motel rooms. Watched him from the corner of his eye during the long hours on the road. Felt a guilty thrill run through him whenever someone assumed they were together. Stared just a little too long at his lips as they ate at yet another greasy dinner. He may have toed the line for brief moments. Clung just a little to tight and for a moment to long, burying his head in Dean's neck to inhale his scent in the rare moments when Dean allowed the contact. He might have snuck in the occasional comment which could have a double or deeper meaning. But he'd never crossed that line. He'd poke fun and tease his brother about his flirtatious ways and girl of the day. It was worth it to see Dean's reaction, his mischievous, beautiful smile, regardless of how it made his heart clench knowing it'd never be him putting that light in his eyes. There were brief moments, mere flashes of time when he wondered if maybe his love was reciprocated. An offhanded comment that seemed to mean more or an unguarded look in his eyes, but then the moment would pass, leaving him to wonder if maybe it was just his overactive imagination, wishful thinking. That smile was almost gone now, and no longer directed at him. It had slowly faded as the world had started falling apart, and he found himself missing it. He wished that even once, he'd taken that chance, kissed him and told him how he truly felt. He regretted the lost moments. Maybe it would have made the difference they needed. That was one of the things he hated himself for most. Being the reason Dean no longer smiled. What he wouldn't give to have the power to change the past. To fix his mistakes and have his brother back, even if his love was never reciprocated.

A harsh sound jolted him out of his thoughts as he realized he'd drifted into the rumble strips in his distraction. The pain in his chest deepened as he wished for the easy conversation to keep him focused on the road ahead. It wasn't a sharp, hysterical crying fit inducing pain. It was worse. A deep, dull, aching pressure, like a vice tightening ever tighter, constricting breath and seeming to suck all of the oxygen out of the air, causing the occasional moments of gasping, sometimes so badly that panic would start to set in. At least with the sharp pain, you can cry and the tears act as a balm to the wound. This pain is too deep, unable to be reached by tears, unable to be soothed.

They had argued before of course. Sometimes gone for periods of time without contact because of it, but this time it felt final, like there was no going back. There was too much damage. He knew he hadn't been the only one to make mistakes, but his felt much bigger. Dean didn't seem to even realize he was hurting him, it was an accident. He should have talked to him instead of letting the resentment build, bottling it up inside, trying to protect his brother from the darkness he hadn't wanted him to see. It hadn't worked anyways. He'd ended up doing more damage by sneaking around, doing things he knew he shouldn't even though he really was doing it trying to protect him, keep him safe, even though Dean would probably never see that. Would never see just how much he was willing to sacrifice in order to keep him happy. He knows once Dean realizes he won't be coming back this time, that he won't understand or agree with his motivations. He knows that Dean would take him back, no matter how angry and hurt he still is with him, out of a sense of duty and responsibility. No longer out of love. But he can't go back this time. His brother needs time and space to heal. He'll be better off without constantly having to watch out for his wretched little brother. He'll be able to relax and smile more without constantly having to fix whatever he'd broken this time. As much as he longed for the comfort of his older brother, he knew Dean didn't truly need him. Dean was amazing, the righteous man, the chosen one, marked by an angel, and heaven's champion. He could finally follow his dreams without "the boy with the demon blood" dragging him down. He knew Lucifer would be after him, wanting to use him as a meat suit to fight against Michael, against his brother. Maybe he wasn't good enough to stand at Dean's side, but he could at least keep the Devil from gaining his true vessel. He could do his duty too, no mater how painful it felt to be separated from the only family he had left and the love of his life. He could protect his brother by making sure Lucifer could never fight at full power. He knew his brother was strong enough to win, unless he had to face Evil at full power wearing the form of someone he'd once protected.

He sighed, slumping down in the cracked leather seat. The future was a complete mystery. Pain telling him that it would never get better, that it would only increase until his heart felt crushed and shredded, that maybe it would be better to end things now. It wasn't the first time he'd considered that option, had spent way to long thinking about it, making plans and filing away the best ones for future reference if things ever got that hopeless. Maybe it was time to pull one out and finally act on it. There was still the tiniest sliver of hope though. That in a few years, maybe in a decade or two or three, Dean would come looking for him. That time would have healed the pain and wounds he'd inflicted on his brother and he'd want to see him again. That maybe they'd run into each other and Dean would be willing to forgive him and try being brothers again. That hope, though tiny, was persistent. It had latched on to his very soul and wouldn't let him give up just yet, no matter how much he wanted to. Maybe... maybe...

The sun began to rise on the horizon in front of him. A new day. Maybe he wouldn't give up today. He'll hold on to that flicker of hope for today. Tomorrow might be the day he lets it go, but for today... He lets his longing stretch before him, wide as the ocean and hopes that one day it will bring him home.


End file.
